


It's No Life

by Tia_Pixie



Series: Here, we are kings. [2]
Category: Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991)
Genre: Angst, Drunk!Will, Gen, Grumpy teenage Will, Introspection, Slightly paternal John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tia_Pixie/pseuds/Tia_Pixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Wulf nearly gets captured in a hunt, a concerned and guilt-ridden Will does some thinking. Emboldened by that and a drop of mead he confronts John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. After the hunt

* * *

"Did Father thrash you?"

"What?" It came out harsher than he had meant it to. The little boy didn't seem to mind though; he scrambled down the muddy bank and sat down next to Will. Will's eyes shifted to the boy's reflection in the eddying water at his feet, took note of the bloody rag tied about his hand and the dried blood in his hair. For a few moments there was quiet, broken only by soft splashes from the boy's occasionally throwing stones into the water. "Yes." He muttered finally.

"Why?" Wulf paused in his skimming rocks off the water and turned to face the man. Will paused, biting back the harsh comment that would tell the boy to mind his own business. Apparently, he paused a little too long as Wulf continued in a smaller voice: "Was it because I nearly got caught?"

Will scoffed darkly. "Nearly?" Raising his eyes from the stream, he finally met the boy's gaze. "Nearly? Wulf, it was not nearly! You _did_ get caught! You could have been _killed_. You could have been killed and I, we –" He broke off, his jaw clenching angrily and glared unseeingly into the waters.

"I'm sor-"

"Why didn't you just do as you were told? Just…just stay put and hide!"

"Will, I was just trying to help!"

"Well, you DIDN'T!"

They both stopped, Wulf's face flushed angrily and his eyes welled with tears; Will looked pale and drawn underneath purpling bruises and blood-matted hair. Wulf slumped down onto the rock again, looking utterly miserable. Again, an uncomfortable silence ensued, Will's anger seemed to radiate off him as his jaw continued to work furiously. He returned to his original task of attempting to wash the blood off his face, wincing as he caught a particularly painful bruise (' _Thank you, John_.') Wulf sniffled quietly and peered at him from behind matted bangs every now and then.

"I know." Will murmured quietly, when he had managed to slough most of the blood and grime from his face. Wulf peered up at him, smiling hopefully and Will found himself grinning ruefully back and ruffling the boy's hair. He truly did know. Even if Wulf had stayed put, with as many soldiers as there had been, he most likely would have been caught or trampled underfoot anyway. And he _had_ been trying to help; scaring the deer from its hiding place would have saved time if it hadn't also attracted the attention of Gisbourne and his men. Will and the other men had been wrong when they'd assumed the soldiers' fear of the forest ' _ghosts'_ outweighed their fear of Gisbourne and his cousin.

It was lucky that there had been so many others out with them, Will and Bull would never have been able to defeat so many of Gisbourne's soldiers alone and Wulf would have been lost. As it was, Wulf had been grabbed up by one of the men before Will and the others even realised they were there. They were equally fortunate that Gisbourne had decided to try to take them alive that day, had the soldiers been fighting to kill, Will doubted any of them would have come back at all. As it was, they had all made it back - battered, bruised and without their prize - but at least they were alive and that was something in itself! Upon seeing the state his son was in though, John had not been so enthusiastic.

It had been a long while since Will recalled seeing John in such a fury, particularly directed at him. He noted dejectedly that, man as he was, John could still bat away any move Will made to defend himself against the onslaught of fists and sticks as if he were no bigger than Wulf. It didn't frighten him exactly, but it was…humbling, especially in front of the other men, not to mention Wulf. It hadn't been the most painful thrashing he had ever experienced (and he had experienced many) but the suddenness and unexpected violence of it had certainly left an impression. More than one, he thought woefully as his lip began to bleed again. John had made it clear (as if Will had ever been in any doubt) that whenever Wulf went out with the men without John, it was Will's responsibility to keep him as safe as possible. So he had expected the irate reprimand but not the starry-vision inducing beating that accompanied it. It had been a while since Will Scarlett had found himself helpless in a fight.

Attempting to shrug off the foul mood threatening to descend upon him, Will leant forward as if to wash his face, instead throwing a handful of water at his young friend's face. Shrieking indignantly, Wulf retaliated and a brief but vicious water fight ensued, ending with Will throwing Wulf over his shoulder and dumping him unceremoniously into the stream. Grinning at the sputtering child, Will reached out a calloused hand to pull him up.

"My, but you are a sight, Wulf Little." He commented teasingly, chuckling pitilessly as the boy shot him a glare. "What would your mother say?" Taking the proffered hand, Wulf smirked wickedly.

"Maybe you should worry about what my _father_ will say." The effect upon his friend was instantaneous. Will's face hardened at once and he released Wulf's hand, watching him fall hard back into the water with a surprised "Ah!"

* * *

 

More men joined them that evening; they hadn't come from their own village but were still known to a few of the other men. Wulf listened proudly from his perch in a tree as his father told the newcomers of their lives in the woods, how it was to be away from the taxman and the Sherriff. He had heard the speech umpteen times now but hearing it still comforted him, as it seemed to do with all the other men. He noticed Will sauntering up to the assembled group, jerking his head in greeting when John glanced his way, John returning the gesture. He wondered whether his father and Will had spoken to one another since they had returned to the camp. Although they returned separately, (Will had strode on ahead, apparently not caring whether Wulf was with him or not), Wulf had noticed that Will made himself scarce when John began questioning his son over his soaking wet state. He hadn't exactly lied, when he said he fell in the stream; and it wasn't so much because he didn't want his father to wallop Will for turning on him like that but he was _bored_ back at camp and he didn't want his friend to be mad at him any longer. And maybe he did feel a little guilty for teasing his proud friend who, in all fairness, could stand against any other man in camp except Wulf's father. Wulf had never met anyone who _could_ beat his father. He imagined that losing to John in front of so many other men must have left Will sore in more ways than one.

Will eased himself down onto a log across the fire from Wulf's perch slowly and with exaggerated care. Wulf wondered if it was from pain or the desire to draw as little attention to himself as possible. He didn't speak, just sat and listened as John and the others boasted the delights of living in Sherwood, it wasn't unusual but Wulf thought his friend looked troubled, not upset or angry exactly, just…troubled, every so often he'd dart reproachful looks at the speakers, occasionally a concerned one to Wulf. After a while, Wulf captured his glance and his eyes lingered on him, holding his gaze. Encouraged, Wulf grinned and stuck his tongue out. Will's eyebrow quirked arrogantly, the effect ruined by the resigned smile working its way across his face. Fight resolved, Will's attention turned back to the conversation and Wulf's to people watching.

Later that night, John called for mead to be shared around, to the gleeful shouts of the men. Much brought forth two flagons, raised triumphantly in the air. He lowered one to Bull then turned his eyes on John in silent question. John flicked his eyes and cocked his head pointedly at Will, who sat looking unseeingly into the fire. He sniggered good-naturedly as Much shoved the bottle into Will's hands almost knocking him off his seat. Will turned startled eyes upon the bottle, then Much and finally upon John who nodded at him once. Will seemed to consider for a moment, then smiled ruefully back before upending the bottle and downing his share in one to whoops and cheers of approval from the others.

* * *

 

"You shouldn't do that, John," Will declared confidently, sitting down rather more heavily than he intended and reaching out an arm to John's shoulder to steady himself. John made no answer, knowing the young man was either about to pick a fight or pass out and would need no assistance from him to do either. As he suspected, Will continued haltingly, his words slightly slurred. "You…you should not tell them, that it's like that…because, because it's not!" There was a pause, where John turned to him and Will confidently looked at…something over John's shoulder. "Living out here." Will supplied suddenly, in case John was unaware of the subject of their conversation. John raised his brows expectantly, inviting him to continue. Scarlett's confident façade seemed to falter as he realised John expected him to justify his claims. His eyes darted about, looking for inspiration. Gesturing around them, the boy continued. "It isn't always like this, drinking and eating good meat…and, and laughing and drinking! It is not always warm like this. We don't always all escape when…when Gisbourne's men come after us." Here, John scowled and Will had the good sense to look away guiltily. There was a long pause before Will spoke again, sounding more alert and less slurred. "I _would always_ have saved him, John…I would." Quiet. Determined. Ruined quite a bit by the way the young man suddenly lurched forward and started retching.

"I know." John didn't know. He was fairly certain he'd try, but at times Will displayed an alarming attitude of ' _every man for himself'_ that didn't bode well for the men as a group. But, the young man was clearly drunk and John didn't like to think of what Fanny would say to his having fought with Will once, let alone twice in one day. So challenging him now would do no good, no matter how much he doubted the words. Will coughed and heaved for a few minutes, nothing much came up but he stayed down just in case whilst John thumped him on the back rather harder than he thought necessary.

Sitting up and dragging his sleeve across his mouth, Will faced John again. His look was less clouded by alcohol now but his drunken confidence was still there. Will breathed heavily for a few more moments before continuing as if he had never been interrupted. John resigned himself to one of Scarlett's rants, sitting back and listening. Having heard them very often, especially after the mead had made its rounds, John didn't listen too carefully but he made out the usual complaints – the squires ought to try to help the people, not punish them; it wasn't fair (there were a lot of those); they didn't deserve to be out there; what they had was nothing so what did they have to lose?

"What we have here is a sanctuary, William." Will looked both startled and indignant at John's interruption to his tirade and the use of his full name. He opened his mouth to object but John's look quelled him. "Every man 'ere would hang if 'e so much as set foot at home again. Even my boy. You know that, you know that or you'd go." Will glowered. "We may not live like kings, Will, but at least out here we're free – "

"FREE? We are none of us free, John! We are outlaws, John – _criminals_! Even out here! There are prices upon our heads; and the more of us that come, the more they _hunt us down like animals_! You would call that freedom?"

"I call it a life, boy. P'raps it's not what we should 'ave. But we're alive, and we _are_ free, for now at least. There are others who can't say so much."

Both men fell silent, thinking of the 'others' John mentioned. Will's snide murmur broke through the silence. "And would you wish this _freedom_ upon Fanny, John?" John raised his eyes slowly, taking in the defiantly set jaw and the deliberately averted gaze. If it were any other man or, if Will were not so clearly inebriated and therefore lacking in what little good judgment he usually showed, John would have knocked him to the ground, injuries and all.

"You'd better watch that mouth, lad. Before it gets you in trouble." The comment was dangerously light, said with a smirk that promised the trouble it was threatening. He turned smouldering eyes to the younger man, daring him to continue. Will's eyes narrowed, taking in the crowd of men around them before meeting the taunting face. John raised both eyebrows and spread his hands in a mock invitation. Will held his look for a moment, considering the larger man. Even sober and well rested, he was no match for John but half-drunk and wounded he hadn't any chance at all.

Scoffing contemptuously, Will inclined his head in a mocking bow, leaping up and back as John's hand shot out towards him. Shooting him one last mutinous glare, he turned on his heel and stormed away into the dark woods. John's eyes darted to Wulf who was watching Scarlett's retreating back and fidgeting restlessly. His son waited perhaps thirty seconds before leaping to his feet and dashing after the young man before he could disappear into the darkness.

* * *

 

"Go back, Wulf." He knew that tone; it screamed ' _stay away_ ' and was enough to make the boy stop in his tracks. Will stood ahead of him, leaning his head against a tree and breathing heavily. He edged closer, making sure to stay out of arms reach. "I said go back, boy." Will murmured dangerously, still not looking at him. Wulf stopped but did not retreat. Neither of them moved for several minutes until finally, Will turned and slumped down at the foot of the tree, resting his head back and closing his eyes. Since Will had made no move to bodily remove him from the vicinity, Wulf followed suit, sitting down and crossing his legs about six feet away from the man. Will's breathing seemed to calm, his body relaxed and Wulf was beginning to wonder if he had fallen asleep when suddenly he spoke. "What do you want, Wulf?" He didn't sound angry, or dangerous, or even particularly drunk. He didn't sound particularly friendly either. Wulf thought he sounded very tired and sad.

"I like it out here." Will opened one eye, regarded him for a moment, closed it. "It's not as bad as you made it sound." Snort from Will. "It's not! You shouldn't talk like that, it scares the others." Though it remained unspoken, the implied ' _It scares me'_ was obvious. Silence from Will. Wulf was beginning to think Will was not going to contribute anything to this conversation. He started to consider just doing as he had been told and going back to camp.

" _You_ should not have listened in on talks that did not concern you."

"Everyone else was!" Wulf scowled indignantly. Will's cheeks flamed, wondering how many had heard John threaten him and seen him back down.

"Doesn't make it right." He fell back on what he had been told for as long as he could recall by both his own mother and Wulf's. He could almost hear the boy sulking. It made him smile. Sobering, he opened his eyes and observed the boy. Cocking his head to one side, he said softly "It's no life you know, Wulf." Wulf's eyes flicked to his, held them. "I know it may seem like it, but it's not." Wulf frowned slightly as Will sat up straighter, still watching him intently. "It seems fun now, I know. Now that the danger has passed, and when the only life in your hands is your own. But this isn't fair, and this isn't right. You'll understand it one day."

"I understand it n–"

"No, you don't. Not really. It's all a game, Wulf. That's all it is to you right now. This morning was just the beginning, Wulf. This morning was just a game to them too; it wasn't about punishing people who break the law. It was about hurting people who can't defend themselves, because Gisbourne and the Sherriff enjoy it and because there's nobody who will stand against it."

"Not even you?" Will smiled grimly.

"Not even me." His eyes took on a faraway look, lost in something only he could see. He paused between each sentence, eyes flicking to Wulf after each one. "You think you know hunger, boy? Or what it truly is to fear for your life? We won't always be there when you get caught. We might not always be here when you come back." Wulf's eyes widened as if he had not truly thought of that, it was true that he had seen people taken from the village, non-payment of taxes and other trivial crimes. He had never seen someone taken by soldiers out here in their 'sanctuary'. He had seen (and as of that morning been part of) fights with Gisbourne's men when their hunting parties ran into groups of soldiers but so far, everyone had returned.

"If anyone tried to take _me,_ I'd….I'd kill 'em!" Will's eyes had drifted shut again but his mouth twitched at the boy's false bravado.

"Two wrongs do _not_ make a right, boy."

Wulf suddenly found that he felt very cold, here in the darkness away from the fire and his father. There, this way of life seemed exciting and adventurous; out here with his melancholic friend, it seemed frightening and dangerous. He could hear a few of the men still awake, his father's laugh booming out through the forest. He got to his feet; Will remained with his back against the tree, chin resting on his chest.

"It's not that bad out here." The boy muttered, though it lacked the confidence of his original assertions. Taking a last glance at his seemingly comatose friend, Wulf started walking back. He barely heard the soft retort directed at his retreating back.

"It's no life."

Wulf froze, fists clenching and biting his lip.

"Wulf!" Looking up, he started running towards that voice. The one that assured him that it really wasn't so bad out here and that he was safe, for now at least.

"I'm coming, Father!"


	2. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before. If only for the sake of his pride, Will decides some nights are left unrecalled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Hunting the Hart though they can be read as stand alones.

Will awoke slowly the next morning, and when he did, he found himself wishing that he hadn't done so at all. His body ached and throbbed. Clutching his forehead in both hands, he rolled painfully to face the door of his hut. _His hut?_ Sitting up carefully, he thought back over the previous night. He had fought with John, then fought with Wulf, silently reconciled with both of them over the campfire, drunk a frankly astounding amount of ale in one go and then? The rest was fuzzy, like trying to recall a dream. He was aware that he had spoken with _some_ body before leaving the fire for _some_ reason. Another fight? It seemed the most likely explanation, Will knew (and had been told) that he could be…quarrelsome when inebriated – even more so than usual. He had also been told he could become rather over amorous but since no women currently resided in the camp, he hoped the reason had been the former rather than the latter. So, after leaving the others he had done what?

He vaguely recalled Wulf, the woods and a melancholy which, coupled with the after effects of the drinking, made him want to stay abed the entire day and quite possibly a lot of the next. He could fill in virtually all of the blanks regarding the previous night except for the gap between whatever he was doing with Wulf and going to bed. He tried to think harder but his head was throbbing and he gave up after a while. After all, there were plenty of other nights where his memories were patchy at best and in some cases, non-existent – in fact, given the amount of alcohol he had consumed, he felt more than satisfied with his recollections.

He eased himself up further, his body screaming in protest and his stomach rolling unpleasantly. He knew he ought to go out and meet the day, there would be another hunting party setting out since the previous day's had been so rudely interrupted by Gisbourne. His stomach gave another lurch that had nothing to do with feeling unwell. The relief that had followed the attack had all but been replaced by guilt and concern over Wulf's close-escape. Will closed his eyes, seeing the soldiers bearing down upon his young friend and snatching him up before Will and the others had even moved. It had been too close. John was right, how could he let Wulf go out with Will and the others without him if he could not trust that Will at least, would be watching him?

Grimacing as the effects of John's anger made themselves known once more, Will couldn't decide whether to hold on to his resentment or let it go. He recognised and could admit, to himself at least, that he had probably deserved it. John had trusted him with his boy and Will had let him down. The fact that the thrashing he had received because of it could actually have been an awful lot harder than it had been only served to make him feel worse. Suddenly, the humiliation of being beaten down as he had been in front of all the others hit him full force. Will had fought back with everything he had and yet John had been able to restrain him with one arm and strike him with the other. Furious tears welled in his eyes, it wasn't fair! Had it been virtually any other man, Will had no doubt that he would have been able to not only stop them but even get in plenty of punches himself. Unfortunately, John was not only much broader than Will was, he also towered head and shoulders over him and had a good fifteen years on Will. Even more unfortunately for Will, the one punch he had managed to land yesterday had shocked him so much that John had actually knocked him to the ground with his next shot.

Will sighed and finally stood, swaying and gagging slightly. Breathing heavily, he braced himself for the day. He felt sick and irritable but he opted to forgive John his violence. It seemed the more favourable option –John seemed to find his moods amusing more than anything else, but he would not hesitate to thrash him again if Will became too surly with him or Wulf. Besides, Will would have done far worse to anyone else who had come as close to losing Wulf as he had.

* * *

 

John's patience was wearing thin. From the moment he had arisen that morning, Wulf had been at his heel. Usually he wouldn't mind, if Wulf was with him then he wasn't off getting into mischief or falling out with Will again. John was no fool, and for all Will's arrogant facades and foul moods, John could always tell when he and Wulf had fallen out. After Wulf had returned dripping wet and with a scowl worthy of Scarlett himself, it had come as no great surprise to him when Will re-joined the camp and sat as far away from Wulf as possible, with Wulf making no move to approach him. His first instinct had in fact been to confront Scarlett about it, but since Wulf had not mentioned it and did not seem miserable over it, he decided to let it be. They would make up, as always.

And seemingly, they had. After John and Will's argument and Will had stormed off (an increasingly frequent occurrence), Wulf had trotted off in his wake as usual. When John had fetched Wulf a while later, he had been quiet but not as though he and Will had fought again. Therefore, it struck John as odd that on a clear, Summer's day such as this one, Wulf had waited patiently for John to rise and then followed him like a shadow for the rest of the morning. When he would ordinarily have bounded in and woken a hung-over Will far earlier than he would've liked and been curtly shooed out only to have Will stumble out perhaps ten minutes later clutching his head and snarling indignantly at having to ' _keep an eye on'_ Wulf.

John had even gone so far as to suggest that Wulf go and wake Will. He himself was not suffering from the previous night but Wulf was beginning to try his patience. Initially, he had been pleased at the opportunity to speak privately with his boy but beyond that, he had hoped Wulf would leave him be after the conversation. And what a conversation it had been. It had been short, John was not a man of words after all, but Wulf had been less than pleased to hear John's decision regarding his going out with the hunting parties.

" _But Father! I can –" Wulf cried angrily._

" _No, boy."_

" _I didn't get caught! Everyone is fine!" John snorted at that. He knew full well how close it had been, and Wulf may not have been taken but he most certainly had been caught. Even his argument that everyone had returned 'fine' was untrue, by and large they had been lucky but nobody had returned completely unscathed._

" _No."_

" _Will was with me! He is always with me! Please, Father. Why can't I go?" Again, John felt scorn for his son's statements, along with a sudden resurgence of anger at young Scarlett. Scarlett had been there and had done nothing, if it had been a case of Wulf running off on his own instead of staying with the group then perhaps he would reconsider. As it was, his son had been out with at least half a dozen other men, including Scarlett, and still nearly been taken away from him. He did not intend to ban Wulf from the hunts forever, it would only mean he would go on his own eventually and it would mean losing a hunter from the group. Nevertheless, with the images of what could have happened and the relief that had followed the party's return still so prominent in his mind, John couldn't help but be more careful where his boy was concerned. Much as he wanted to place the blame solely on the men who had been with Wulf, he also recognised that if his son was not so averse to doing as he was told, it might not have happened at all._

" _Will Scarlett is piss-poor in fights like that." Wulf scowled at hearing his idol criticised for something which Scarlett took such care (not to mention practice) to improve. "And he mightn't always be able to help. Mind me, my lad; you can't go till I say_ _s_ _so."_

_It was almost what John truly felt. In truth, his fear was more that Will would be able but unwilling to help rather than unable. But his statement about Scarlett's ability in such fights was perfectly true. Will was a scrapper, that much was true. But his skill lay in fists and daggers, in attacking downwind and his practice came from rolling around in the dirt outside taverns with the local lads. Faced with mounted soldiers in armour and carrying swords, he could barely defend himself let alone someone else._

_Wulf looked mutinous but let the matter drop. John clearly had_ that _look about him._

John turned his attention now to Scarlett who emerged, shielding his eyes and stretching from his shack. He noticed him glance at the sky then around the camp before settling on Wulf, frowning slightly, clearly wondering (as John was) why he had not been woken earlier. As he took in the young man's appearance, John noticed cuts in his unfastened over tunic, not to mention the various bruises and fresh cuts visible above the loose shirt. Knowing that the majority of them were not inflicted by him, John wondered whether he was perhaps remiss in not attempting to improve the lad's skill with a sword - for Wulf's sake at least.

John glanced down at his son, expecting that he would finally run off to keep company with Will as always. However, Wulf seemed reluctant to join his friend. They both watched Will greet a couple of the others, exchanging sympathies for each other's current conditions with Bull and even smile albeit somewhat forcedly as Bull feigned punching him and jerked his head towards John. John barely suppressed a grin himself when Scarlett then turned a glare upon him, clearly still bitter about their fight the day before. Nevertheless, Will sauntered up to the pair, wincing as he stepped into a patch of particularly bright sunlight.

Will came to a stop in front of them both, clearly uncomfortable around John. "Morning." Though it was clearly not morning anymore, it seemed the only thing to come to his mind. His voice sounded gravelly and somewhat uncertain, so very unlikely the confident and argumentative young man John recalled from the night before.

"Good morning, Will." Wulf murmured from his father's side. He too seemed apprehensive, pressing into John's side.

Will's eyes darted down to him, seeming almost surprised to see him there. "Hullo, Wulf!" The forced cheer seemed to hurt his head, he winced before continuing. "I'm going down to the river." As he said it he gave an odd, (not to mention ill-considered) half jerk of his head in that direction. It was as close to an invitation or request for Wulf's company as he would ever give and Wulf recognised it as such. When he still seemed hesitant, Scarlett quirked a grin. "I believe we still have unfinished business from yesterday." He added, half turning to leave. His tone had brightened, now it was warm – teasing almost. A joke between the two of them that neither believed John would understand.

Wulf's answering beam was instantaneous that time. He barely spared his father a glance as he took up his place at Will's side, chattering incessantly. It cheered John to see Wulf so happy after he had been so reserved all morning. The relief was short-lived as he caught the end of whatever Wulf had been talking about.

"And now Father says that I'm not allowed to go with the parties at all! It isn't fair. But we'll still go on ours, won't we?"

"Um…I suppose so." Will answered slowly, shooting a cautious glance at John to see if he had heard, which turned into fright as he realised he had. John felt his blood boil at the implication that Scarlett took his boy out hunting without any of the others – without him even knowing! "Although, maybe it would be for the best if I just…" Will trailed off as John caught up to them. Wulf looked up, starting to protest but stopping and looking down guiltily when he saw his father. Will held John's gaze, looking what John suspected was supposed to be defiant but came off as nervous.

"It isn't often." Scarlett's eyes closed in chagrin as Wulf piped up to defend himself and his friend. Opening his eyes, Will added:

"It's only rabbits, John." John said nothing, but continued glaring. Will was looking more uncomfortable by the second. "I do not take him hunting with me, not while I'm alone."

John was less than comforted by this, firstly, because although setting traps was far less dangerous than all out hunting in open land, it still meant leaving the camp and was still classed as poaching and secondly because Will's assurance that he didn't take Wulf alone, also implied to John that Will at least, _did_ go hunting alone. He had not known that. The knowledge of this, coupled with his earlier musings upon the young man's swordsmanship, struck John with an overwhelming urge to ban Will from any future hunts for a while as well as Wulf. Suppressing the urge (and putting it down to his general distrust that Scarlett wouldn't betray them all to the Sherriff if necessary and to the fact that Fanny would have his skin if Scarlett did get caught and reasoning that he would feel the same worry over any of his men if they chose to do such things), John replied as calmly as he could.

" _You_ are _free_ to do as you like, just don't you go dragging my boy into it! If you want to risk your freedom – your skin – like that, then _you_ are free to do so."

Will opened his mouth to argue back then suddenly, his eyes widened and his face drained of what little colour it had in it. John thought he might vomit but Scarlett's suddenly dropped his gaze. Frowning downwards, thinking carefully before shooting an apprehensive glance at John again. John raised his eyebrows, a slight smirk in place as he suddenly realised why his words had triggered such sheepishness in the young man. _Freedom._

Still not looking at John, Will nodded and turned, dragging Wulf away with him. Shooting apprehensive glances over his shoulder at John as he went.

John wondered if he ought to put him out of his misery and remind him of the rest of last night's events. Namely, the fact that Will had apologised profusely for what he had said about Fanny, but knowing the cocky, defiant young man he would turn into once he knew that, John decided to leave it a while longer. He wanted to make the most of a camp that included a Will Scarlett who was all stammers and blushes rather than flying fists and sharp words.

_John bid goodnight to the other fellows as they all eventually stumbled away to their bedrolls or lay passed out by the fireside. It had been several hours since he had fetched Wulf back, the fire had all but died and yet still there had been no sign of Scarlett. It being high Summer, the night was still warm; but rain had been threatening for most of the day and he was beginning to feel the first few drops falling. Thoughts of Fanny had been in his mind ever since Will had mentioned her in their argument earlier and, tempted as he was to let the young man stay where he was, passed out in the middle of the woods without any cover from the rain, John shuddered to think what Fanny would have said if he did so. He didn't like to consider a conversation where he had to tell her that Scarlett had died from some fever as a result of it either – it was unlikely but out there in the wilderness, who could take the chance? Sighing and stretching as he felt sleep beginning to take hold of him, John stood slowly, scowling as he thought longingly of his own bed._

_John approached the sleeping man cautiously and coming to a stop about six feet away, living as dangerously as they did, most of the men had learned to come up swinging when awoken suddenly. He stood, observing him silently. Sprawled at the foot of the tree, face half-turned into the earth and hair strewn across his face, Will made a somewhat comical prospect. John grinned as a particularly fat raindrop fell upon the younger man's face causing him to scrunch his face up and mutter something incoherent in his sleep before shifting onto his back and becoming still again. John's smile lessened slightly as he observed him now, one side of Will's face was plastered in mud but what he could see of it had some nasty bruises developing and his lip was split. John was forcibly reminded of numerous occasions not so long ago when he would return home to a bruised and muddied Will standing outside their door. A Will who, having picked a fight with someone much bigger than him would inevitably wind up by their fireside being patched up by Fanny before curling up and falling asleep with Wulf and some of their other children on top of him. The boy had always irritated him, there was no doubting that, but John had to admit that despite his own feeling for him, Will had been a constant in his children's lives for many years and - before today - none of them had ever been wounded or endangered whilst in his company._

_At this thought, John felt a pang of guilt hit him. He wasn't sorry for the beating he had given the lad (though had he known that Will was already injured from his encounter with Gisbourne, he would have held back a little more). But on reflection, he couldn't help but think he had been a little hasty – after all, Will hadn't been the only man out with Wulf – and, though he had doubted it during their earlier conversation, John found that he truly did believe that Will would have protected Wulf if he could have done. Also, if he were completely honest with himself, his concern for his friends as well as his son and even his concern for Will himself had played a part in his anger – how often could he recall Fanny or even Anne Scarlett herself taking such care over young Will's bruises before boxing his ears themselves? Shaking his head exasperatedly, John leant forward._

" _You coming in then, lad?" How many times must he have asked Will that over the years at home? Will made some incoherent answer, frowning in his sleep. "Will?" John nudged him with his foot. "Come on." Again, Will made no answer but rolled himself away slightly. John shook his head again. He was tempted to leave the boy there but it was beginning to rain in earnest now and he'd be damned if he put up with a Will Scarlett who was even more ill-tempered than usual simply because he chose to sleep outside in the rain. Stepping closer, John cleared his throat. "WILLIAM!" Scarlett came awake with a startled gasp._

" _John?" Will's eyes settled on John's face in the darkness but in the moonlight John could see his eyes still clouded with sleep and ale._

" _Come on." John said again, jerking his head in the direction of the camp. He held one hand out and raised his eyebrows expectantly. Blinking owlishly and eyeing the proffered hand suspiciously, Will eventually allowed himself to be pulled stiffly to his feet. John began striding back, only stopping when he realised he was alone. He turned to find Will standing where he had left him, still regarding him with that same mix of suspicion and hope. Seeing John stop, Will stumbled after him and fell into step as best he could as John resumed walking. They were about halfway back when Will suddenly stopped again. Rolling his eyes, John turned, his patience quickly running out._

" _John, I'm sorry." Will whispered in a small voice. John's brows went up to meet his hairline. The Will Scarlett who stood before him now bore little resemblance to the one he had argued with earlier. This one was soaking wet, muddied and bruised and, John noted in astonishment, looked to be on the verge of tears – a far cry from the defiant little devil who had sat with him by the fire drunkenly declaring that John's way of life just wasn't good enough. Taking in the fresh mud covering Will's front and hands where he had stumbled and fallen in his efforts to keep up with John's strides and the pitiful face that was turned up at him, John smiled ruefully._

_He sighed and lifted one of Will's arms around his shoulders, wrapping his own arm around the boy's waist before setting off again, slower this time. It was awkward – he was almost a foot taller than Will but they managed._

" _I know." John wasn't sure exactly what Scarlett was apologising for, presumably for the argument or because of Wulf's narrow escape but since apologies fell from the man's tongue about as often as snowflakes in July, John felt that it was sincere. Even more so, when he suddenly felt the slim body next to him begin to tremble before giving way to quiet sobs as Will began to ramble about his various misdeeds of the day. John began to wonder whether he might have knocked something loose in the boy – he was drunk, clearly, but John couldn't remember the last time he had seen Scarlett lose control in such a way, it was surely a good five years!_

"… _and I know I shouldn't have let it happen but…but I tried! I really did!" He was saying now, tripping over the words as they tumbled from his mouth. "I had no right to say it, John. I know, I didn't." John blinked, thrown off by the sudden change of subject. "But…I'm sick of it! A-and it's true! Everything I said, it's all true!" The tears had stopped as quickly as they started but now Will sounded weary and was leaning more heavily on John. "And Fanny doesn't belong out here. It wouldn't be fair." He continued quietly, almost regretfully. John felt indignation and anger rise up in him again as it occurred to him that Will thought he truly_ would _wish this life on his wife and other children. He opened his mouth to put Scarlett straight but Will continued even more quietly, gazing at nothing and giving a half-hearted shrug. "Just 'cos_ we _want them with us, doesn't mean it's…right…does it?" Again, John was caught off guard by Will's rambling; he was unprepared to be asked his opinion on it. He floundered for a moment, and Will suddenly turned his face to look at him for the first time since he had apologised to him. His expression was so uncertain and he looked so trusting – so unlike his usual self. John was reminded of Wulf and his other children, seeming to blindly trust that their father had all the answers to their questions._

" _No, lad." He managed at last. He wasn't certain quite what he had agreed or disagreed with but Will seemed satisfied because he nodded wearily, closed his eyes and became silent for a few paces. Just as John was beginning to think he might actually have fallen asleep whilst walking, he spoke again._

" _I threw Wulf into the river today." The admission was so impulsive on Will's part that John let out a bark of laughter. Will looked confused._

" _Did you indeed?" The younger man's eyes narrowed suspiciously._

" _You already knew", He accused quietly. John nodded. "That little rat, he told you!" He suddenly cried indignantly._

_John laughed again, amused that Will's conscience was plaguing him so much that he had felt the need to admit to what had_ _been a petty and harmless act of temper on Will's part which Wulf had, he was certain, if not deserved then at least provoked._

" _Wulf did not tell me." He murmured pacifyingly. Will still looked sceptical._ _"He did not tell me!" John repeated more forcefully._

_Will opened his mouth, perhaps to argue but John cut him off with a look. He still looked annoyed but he was fading fast and the scowl was ruined by an enormous yawn. He seemed a little more sober now as well, he was still leaning rather heavily on John but he wasn't stumbling so much and he seemed more alert. John stopped and lifted Will's arm from his shoulders, leaving his own arm slightly wrapped around the younger man's waist just in case. The movement seemed to jar Will. He glanced around, seemingly startled, then stepped away from John – far enough away that John could still grab him if he fell but so that John's arm could no longer reach around him._

_They began to walk in awkward silence._ _T_ _he conversation had died down now that Will was beginning to sober up a little. John had no doubt that he would still suffer for it in the morning and that if he even remembered it, he would be incredibly embarrassed about the night's conversation but for now, it seemed Will had gained enough self-control to seem more like his usual self. Certainly, he was no longer willing to be supported or even caught as he tripped blindly over an upstanding tree root. J_ _ohn stifled a laugh and automatically reached out to grab his arm as he saw him stagger forward only to be shrugged off and have Will step further away, scowling at him and snapping "I'm not your boy, John!" Oh yes, Scarlett was_ definitely _sobering up._

_They entered the camp, both men silently fuming. John because his (admittedly unusual) concern had been harshly rebuffed as soon as Scarlett had been aware enough to realise it as such, and Will out of humiliation and residual anger at John from the afternoon as his injuries made themselves known once more. Will muttered an awkward goodnight to John as they passed the burned out fire, quickening his pace so as to get away from John as fast as possible. John found himself pausing to watch the younger man go, something that was just as well since Will suddenly lurched forward with an alarmed cry and smashed his face into the dirt._

_Chortling, John sauntered over to him, stepping around the fallen log they used as a bench that Will had tripped over. Will was sat facing the log now, wincing as he rubbed his sore ankle, arms and face. John stood over him, gazing down, and his face full of mirth as he hauled him back on to his feet, still laughing. Will glared and rolled his eyes at him. John was fairly certain that he wanted to thump him – a feat that he had only ever achieved a handful of times, that afternoon being one of them. In all honesty, Will had been so astonished (and a little afraid) at having actually hit John that John had easily pushed him to the ground before carrying on._

" _Get to yer bed, Will." John advised smirking. Will's jaw was set angrily but he didn't resist as John grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a slight shove in the direction of his hut – in fact John heard him let out a small chuckle as the boy tripped over his own feet just in his doorway. Rolling his eyes in amusement, John turned and headed for his own bed._


End file.
